


Any Port in a Storm

by sophiewritesandstuff



Category: Cowboy Bebop
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Multi, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 02:52:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9215504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophiewritesandstuff/pseuds/sophiewritesandstuff
Summary: any port in a storm (idiom)Fig. when one is having trouble, one must accept any solution, whether one likes the solution or not.





	

**Author's Note:**

> HOLY FUCKING SHIT I'M NOT DEAD
> 
> In all seriousness, I'm sorry I disappeared for so long!! Updates to Angel are coming soon! In the meantime, enjoy this little Bebop drabble that I wrote for no reason other than I just recently finished Bebop.

She watches him as he walks away to fire up the engines. Everything suddenly seems bigger around here, like she has shrunk to the size of a mouse. She flops down onto the couch, hyper aware of being alone in this moment, the absence of company weighing on her chest like a ton of bricks. Her hand absently falls to her side, reaching for the ears of a dog that no longer sits curled up by the table. She exhales softly, her arm hanging limply down from the couch, fingertips brushing the cold metal of the floor. She is barely aware that the ship has begun to move, fully comprehending only when he returns after programming a route and engaging the autopilot.

“Sure is quiet, huh?” His words make her jump a little, and she sits up.

“It was until you started talking.” she grumbles.

He laughs quietly to himself and sits on the other couch, lighting a cigarette. She stretches a hand out towards him, and he throws her the lighter as she pulls out her own cigarettes and sparks one up. They both take a long heavy drag on their cigarettes, and she relaxes back to her previous position, staring up at the ceiling.

“Did we really wait long enough?” she asks, turning her head to face him.

The look in his eyes answers her question, but he speaks anyway. “If he was coming back, we’d still be waiting.”

The silence consumes them for a few more moments, then she asks another question.

“Did you love him?”

He fumbles, and the cigarette falls from his fingers, landing on the table.

“It’s okay. I knew for a while.” She sits up again, smiling softly. “It wasn’t hard to figure out.”

He looks at the floor. “I would have told him, but… Julia…”

“He wouldn’t have given up on her, would he? You could see it in his eyes.”

Silence returns once more. He picks up the cigarette and extinguishes it on the table.

“How did you guess?”

“The way you looked at him, well… I imagine it’s the same way I did too.”

He furrows his brow, searching her expression for some hint of sarcasm, but finds none. He laughs, a low, rumbling chuckle.

“What a pair we are.”

She hums a small noise of agreement as she stubs out her own cigarette.

“So. What now?”

It’s her turn to frown now. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, where do we go from here?” He looks around. “Everything’s changing.”

“Yeah, it is.” She stands up. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re not?”

“No.” She smiles again, and this time he recognises that mischievous glint in her eyes. “I still got debts to pay, and you have a reputation that gets us work.”

“But… I’m not him. I never will be.” He rises too, looking her in the face. “You know that, right?”

“Of course I do.” She meets his gaze steadily. “But any port in a storm, you know?”


End file.
